Personal
by Mephideus
Summary: Castiel awakens to find himself trapped in Crowley's torture chamber. He supposes he should have seen this coming, after stabbing the demon in the back like that, but Crowley seems to be enjoying this entirely too much. Takes place post-Godstiel. Torture, rape, slash. Rated M for a reason. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Trapped

_Dark._

_Trapped._

_Move. No, can't move._

_Try to...no, trapped._

_Why is it so dark? Oh right. Eyes closed. Fix that._

His eyes fluttered open, the piercing blue a shock against the pale, blood-stained skin.

"You're awake!" came the rough, Cockney voice from somewhere to his left. He tried to turn his head, but he seemed to be strapped down and he couldn't move.

"Nice of you to join us, darling," Crowley said as he walked into view, with a grin gleaming to match the evil allure of the artfully crafted knife in his hand. "You know, torture is no fun when I can't hear you scream. Well, less fun, anyway."

_Right. Crowley. Tied down. Torture. Explains the pain. But how did I..._

_Oh._

_Right._

Crowley was suddenly right in his face, his breath reeking of scotch and sulfur, knife delicately tracing the angel's jawline. "Now, where were we? Ah yes. Teaching you what happens when you cross the King of Hell."

It was all Castiel could do not to cry out as the knife sliced slowly, smoothly, almost lovingly through the skin and muscle of his shoulder.

"Come now, love, don't hold back for my sake," growled Crowley in his ear. Once he'd carefully buried the knife in the body in front of him, he suddenly gave it a sharp twist, and the angel let out a yelp like a kicked puppy. "There we are," the demon answered, sounding like he was enjoying this entirely too much. He stepped back, leaving the blade embedded in the flesh of his victim's vessel. He walked to his table of tools, picking through them to find a new one. "You had me worried there, for a minute, angelcakes. I thought you were done for before we'd even gotten started. But I should have known, your kind are more...resilient than that, eh?"

He held up a long, shining blade that looked frighteningly familiar. Castiel's eyes widened in terror at the sight of it. Crowley let out a chuckle. "This? Oh, don't worry, I won't be using this just yet. Archangels' blades are no good for torture. It's over too quickly." He tossed the sword aside and chose a smaller blade, one carved with what could only be Enochian. "No, we're gonna make this last. We're gonna be the best of friends...again. Right?" He slid the blade just under the skin of Castiel's forearm, where it sizzled and scorched. "Partner?" He grinned at the whimpering form as he drew the Enochian blade back.

"You..." Castiel struggled to speak.

Crowley put on his best face of mock surprise. "He speaks! A miracle!"

For a moment, Castiel seemed to regain his composure,changing his mask of terror and agony into one of anger and hatred. "Do what you want," the angel practically spat, forcing himself to be strong for a moment, blocking out the pain. "You won't gain anything from torturing me."

Crowley grinned. "Oh, but you see, I always gain something from your suffering."

Castiel glared at him in defiance before closing his eyes and trying desperately to black out again.

* * *

Crowley sat back in his chair, glass of Craig in hand. The TV was on in front of him, but he wasn't paying it much mind. Some documentary about Hitler again. He had been one of Crowley's favorite purchases, but there was no pleasure for him in reliving the glory days. Now, he was mulling over more present and pressing matters.

He had the angel still chained up in his basement. Well, sort of his basement. He called it his basement, anyway, though it was technically nowhere near his house. Well, his vessel's house.

Anyway.

He'd had fun the last few days, torturing the life out of his former business partner. That was all it had been, anyway. A business venture. There was nothing more to it than that. A business venture that went south when a certain fine feathered pain in the arse decided he was too good to keep his promises, too good to work with a demon, even an honest one.

Revenge. _Revenge._ He smiled as he thought about it. The word was somehow...delicious. The concept, tantalizing. And in this case, it was wholly deserved, after what that angel had done to him. _Ah well, old boy,_ he thought to himself. _This is what you get for letting yourself go soft._

Crowley was very good at revenge, and he was very good at torture. He was quite well-practiced in both, but this case was different. This one was personal, and he hadn't dealt with personal in a very long time. He made a point of not letting anyone get close enough to him to make it personal. But this one...he stopped himself. No, he wouldn't let himself continue that particular train of thought. Back to thinking about what more he was going to do to his new favorite victim. He could keep marring that pretty-boy vessel. Simple, effective...but somewhat inelegant, and the uncooperative sod would only heal himself as soon as he got loose from the Enochian bonds keeping his Grace tied up. Besides, he'd grown sort of fond of that face, even if he'd come to loathe the creature behind it.

Ah. Now, there was an idea.

There was an idea that would scar that creature forever. It would twist the Grace within and burn those pure white wings to black. And hey, he might even get to see that pretty face blush. He just had to get inside the angel's head. That would be the trick, but he was fairly sure he could manage it.

* * *

"Lucy, I'm home!" Crowley said, with his usual twisted cheer as he swept back into the room. Castiel just stared. _Poor sod probably doesn't even get the reference,_ the demon thought. He walked right up to his trussed-up angel and said into his now almost uncomfortably close face, "Remind me to show you some good television sometime, love. I mean, while I have you as a...captive audience, shall we say?" He smiled at his own pun as he started to undo the bonds.

Castiel looked at him warily. Why was he being released? It couldn't be good.

"Oh, don't look so upset. We're done with the bondage, alright?" Crowley grinned. "At least, for the moment." He snapped his fingers and most of the Enochian symbols disappeared from the walls. There were only a few left, meaning the angel's powers were restored...mostly.

Castiel was still eying him with caution and fear.

"Oh come on, love, heal yourself. Can't have you keeling over on me, can I?"

The angel seemed to weigh his options for a moment, before deciding that if he was going to remain trapped here, he should at least be at full strength, and he couldn't see how healing himself could be to his disadvantage.

Crowley blinked his eyes, and the bloodied and half-destroyed form before him was replaced by one that was not only intact, but quite nearly resplendent. "There we go. All better." With that, he threw back his head and opened his mouth to let out a torrent of smoke the color of pure darkness, if darkness could bleed. Before Castiel even knew what was happening, the smoke was forcing its way down his throat, and his very being began to writhe in horror and pain.

Once all the smoke was gone, the torture chamber was completely silent for the first time in days. The angel's vessel, forced to its knees by the sudden attack, stood up and smiled calmly, its eyes flashing red ever so briefly.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Exploring

Crowley was standing in front of the mirror, admiring his new face. He could hear Castiel screaming at him in his mind, but he just smirked. "Now, now, love. Can't have you escaping," he said aloud, marveling at his new voice. It had been a while since he'd had a body not predisposed to the Cockney accent. He'd have to adjust his vocabulary if he wanted to pass as Castiel, but for now, no one was watching who didn't already know who he was. He glanced around at the remaining Enochian on the walls. "Seeing as how we're going on a bit of a field trip, seems we're gonna have to make these symbols portable to keep you in place."

He had left most of the tattered and bloody clothes by the table that his new meat suit had been attached to for so many days. He looked back at the mirror, wearing only a torn pair of dress pants. He let his mind drift for a moment as he admired his new body. It seemed this angel had pretty good taste in vessels. He let his fingers run across the skin of his chest and feel their way down his abs, enthralled by the smooth motion of the muscles just under the surface. Oh, he would have fun with this body.

"Right," he said, snapping his hands to his sides suddenly as he remembered what he was doing. "Binding sigils." He walked back to his tool trolly and found a small penknife. Perfect.

Back in front of the mirror, penknife in hand, he began work. On the right hip, just above the waistband of the pants, he carefully copied the remaining symbols from the walls, carving them into his stolen flesh. That should hold the angel back. He would be conscious and aware of everything that was happening to his vessel, he would be able to see and hear and feel everything that happened to him, he would be screaming internally about it, and he would be powerless to regain control. The ultimate bondage.

Now.

The angel was restrained. There was no getting out. All he could do was complain. He had this new toy to play with for as long as he wanted, so long as the hunter and his moose didn't catch up with him. So why not have a bit of fun, first? And hey, if he could get a head start on horrifying the angel, all the better.

Crowley snapped his borrowed fingers and was suddenly in his bedroom. He sat down on the bed, and he could feel Castiel trying to work out what he was doing. Poor naïve sod.

He lay on his back and looked at the mirror hung on the ceiling. What a work of art this body was. No wonder he'd gotten attached. Time to live out a fantasy or two, and see if he couldn't make his angel squirm.

His hands started roaming again. Fuck, this body was gorgeous. He made a mental note to claim Jimmy Novak for Hell if he ever found the man's soul. No way he was letting this get away. This skin was so smooth, the muscles so perfect...not annoyingly overgrown, like that lumberjack of a hunter. Just defined and shapely and not bulging. Speaking of bulging, though, he definitely felt a warmth growing down below as his hands made their way down there.

Now he could feel the angel protesting. The little caged bird had finally figured out where this was headed. "Oh, come on Castiel," the demon muttered. "You can't tell me you've never tried this."

_How dare you take my vessel like this, Crowley_, Castiel growled in his head.

"Oh, say that again," the demon replied cheekily. "I do love it when you get all controlling." He unbuttoned the dress pants and pulled them down along with the briefs underneath. He took a moment to be impressed with the size of what he found there. He found himself jokingly wondering if Jimmy had ever made a deal with someone for that. He always loved possessing bodies he found this attractive. All he had to do to get hard was look in a mirror. "Now, let's teach you a lesson or two about how to have fun, shall we?"

He took hold of himself and began to stroke, slowly and tantalizingly, making sure the angel was feeling every little tingle as well. "How do you like that, darling?" asked Crowley.

Castiel was quiet, lost between shame and confusion.

"I thought so." Crowley smirked and began to quicken his pace. Fuck, this body...he could tell how long it had been since it had done anything like this, and he was so turned on already...this wouldn't take long. He let a light moan slip out through his parted lips. It wasn't just the look of this body, it was the feel. It felt so...innocent. So pure. So deliciously corruptible. Sure, Jimmy wasn't a virgin, but having an angel inside you for so long tended to change some things. He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of the angel now inside of him. He was getting close, now.

_Did you just think of me?_ Castiel's voice asked in his ear, sounding equal parts horrified and embarrassed.

Oops. Didn't mean for him to see that. Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Let's make the angel _really_ squirm.

"Yes, Castiel," Crowley said with a growl, looking into his reflection's eyes and seeing the trapped creature looking back at him in horror. "Castiel..." he moaned. He could feel how uncomfortable he was making his prisoner, and that got him even more excited. He was so close, now.

"Cas...Castiel...CASTIEL!" he roared as he came, the angel's name coming surprisingly easily to his lips. Every muscle in his body was tensed up in ecstasy. He hadn't come this hard by his own hand in centuries. Damn, that angel...well, that was exactly what he hoped to do.

* * *

Castiel was trapped in his own mind. What was Crowley going to do to him? He had a strong connection into the demon's mind, now, but the specifics of his plans were kept guarded. He knew what the eventual goal would be, though, and he knew he would only last so long against Crowley's depraved imagination. He just hoped he could hold out long enough for Dean to find him and then find a way to warn him before Crowley did something...untoward.

Dean...Castiel tried not to think about Dean too much. He had grown so fond of the man, and he wanted so badly to fix things with him. He had even thought of offering himself to the hunter in a physical way, as a sort of penance, but he didn't think the hunter would accept it. Too bad, really, as it would also serve as a way to fulfill the sorts of desires he had never known before meeting his human friends, the sorts of desires Crowley was now playing with.

He just hoped he'd figure a way out before it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Play Time

"Oh, Castiel," called Crowley in a playful, sing-song tone. He was looking in a mirror. "Come out and play."

He stood perfectly still, but his reflection moved. It looked back at him, slightly wary, mostly weary. "Crowley, what are you doing?"

"Ah, there's the angel." Crowley smirked. "And how are we enjoying this little experiment?"

Castiel silently looked down, refusing to meet Crowley's eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that. You can tell me. After all, I'm in your head now. There's not much you can hide from me anymore."

Castiel still wouldn't answer, and he wouldn't look up. Crowley looked a bit closer at the reflection. Was that...was the angel actually...blushing? Oh, this was so much more fun than he'd hoped.

"You liked that, didn't you?" He leered into the mirror. "You kinky little bastard. You like being restrained, don't you?"

Castiel's gaze snapped up to meet the demon's, eyes flashing dangerously. "You dare to take possession of my vessel...to abuse it like this...and then to accuse me of being as twisted and perverted as you?"

"And what, pray tell, are you planning to do about it, love? Remember, your wings are clipped. You're all chained up. You could even say I've got you by the short and curlies, if you wanted to be literal about it."

"Be warned, demon. When retribution comes for you, and it will come for you, it will be harsh and unmerciful."

"I look forward to it. I do like it rough, after all. But then, you'd know that." He stepped away from the mirror, leaving Castiel trapped once again in the back of his own mind. "Now, then. Let's go out, shall we?"

* * *

Crowley was out on the prowl. _Let's start with something small, shall we? Just to get warmed up._ He was leaning up against a building, in the shadows, watching a woman walk out of a bar alone across the street.

_No, _Castiel said, sounding immediately angry. _Crowley, no._

Crowley smirked. _Just try and stop me._ He stood up, slouched over, put his hands in his pockets, and started walking. He followed her, distantly at first, keeping to the shadows on his own side of the street.

_Crowley, stop this. She has nothing to do with this._

Crowley just smiled as he blinked his eyes and was suddenly across the street, hidden in an alleyway just ahead of her. Oh, he hadn't had a night out like this in ages. He didn't normally mix lust and wrath like this, but he liked to indulge on occasion, and if it would help him break the angel, then all the better for it. He could feel Castiel losing his grip on his anger and falling into fear as the unsuspecting woman walked closer.

* * *

Castiel was desperate. He had to find some way to protect this woman, but he didn't know what he could do. Before he could even start formulating a plan, his body started moving. He stepped out in front of her, and as he laid eyes on her, he could feel the burning desire coursing through him, originating from the demon in him and spreading unbidden through his Grace. He couldn't help it. She was so innocent and beautiful. He was certain Crowley had chosen her on purpose, to trick him into feeling this way.

"How do you do, madam?" his voice said in an overly polite way. He saw her eyes widen slightly in fear.

"I'm fine, sir. Just trying to get home." She tried to keep walking, but his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. Before she could scream, he had her pressed up against him and had his other hand over her mouth. Crowley was taking advantage of the combined supernatural strength of both beings confined in the same body.

Castiel felt his own lips brush up against her ear as he whispered, "Now, darling, we can't have you leaving us here like this, can we?" He could feel the warmth of her skin and smell the sweetness of her hair as Crowley dragged her into the alley. He could hear the terrified beating of her heart and her muffled attempts to scream, and he could feel how much the demon was enjoying it. He could feel that familiar warmth growing down below, and he was terrified. He was going to have to witness this in every intimate way, and there was nothing he could do but scream at Crowley.

_Stop this, Crowley. Let her go!_

_No,_ came the smug reply. _Not until I've had my fun._

With that thought, Crowley teleported them to his bedroom. Once there, he let go of the girl's mouth. They were isolated here. No one would hear her scream. For the moment, however, she looked far too terrified to scream.

The demon wasted no time. He grabbed at the back of her head and forced her lips down on his. She tried to struggle, but Crowley easily overpowered her. Castiel could feel his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, and _fuck_ if she didn't taste amazing. He could feel her tongue against his, and then he was biting her lower lip, and then he was throwing her back on the bed and no, no, NO, he had to stop this, but there were his hands, grabbing at her chest and tearing at her clothes, and her jacket was already on the floor, and if only he could close his eyes, tear his gaze away for a second, get one glimpse of anything other than the pure terror in her emerald eyes, or the scream on her perfectly formed lips, or the smooth paleness of her skin, or his own body on top of hers as his fingers tore through the fabric of her dress, leaving it in shreds...

He didn't even realize he was screaming at first. He was so morbidly enthralled in the scene in front of him that he didn't notice his own mind shouting wordlessly at the demon. All he could feel was the demon's growing ferocity and his body's growing need for the woman pinned beneath it. His teeth were on her neck and his hands were exploring her chest by the time he noticed the demon paying him a certain attention again.

_Keep on yelling, Castiel,_ he said. _I like it when you scream._

Castiel didn't know what to do. The demon had just taken his last weapon and turned it against him, and he had only just gotten started. He couldn't fight. He couldn't look away. He couldn't even close his eyes as he watched the last of the girl's clothes leave her body. He felt his hands going to his pants and he knew there was absolutely no stopping it now. He was powerless and imprisoned and this girl was going to suffer while he watched and heard and felt every moment of it.

He felt the cold air reach him and almost immediately be replaced by wet warmth as he forced his way into her. She was crying, but he only just barely took notice. His mind was suddenly overtaken by just how good it felt to be buried in her. He was disgusted with himself for the feeling, but he couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Crowley gave her no time to adjust to him and just thrust into her again and again, taking and taking and giving nothing back. Castiel could feel Crowley's arousal and wanted so badly to be able to blame his own on that, but he knew he couldn't. It was no wonder so many of his brethren had fallen. This feeling was irresistible, and it was only growing stronger.

* * *

Crowley was enjoying this. The girl was gorgeous, and her screams and tears appealed to a very primal part of his demonic nature, something all demons shared. More importantly, the angel wouldn't stop screaming, and that appealed to him on a more personal level. He could feel her give up the struggle around the same time his other prisoner started the wordless vocal assault, and that was almost enough to get him off then and there. This body was still adjusting to being used this way again, and it took all his self-control to make it last. After all, the torture was the important part. It was no fun if it was over with quickly.

Even with his greatest efforts, though, the climax still came sooner than he would have liked. He savored every little instant of that sweet release, and he could feel his angel letting some uncontrolled part of himself enjoy it, too. Good. It was working.

* * *

Castiel tried to hide inside himself from shame. He finally realized the true genius of Crowley's latest form of torture. He wasn't just going to make the angel witness the atrocities he was committing.

Crowley was going to make him enjoy them.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Family

Crowley was lounging about in his house again. He had his other body chained up in the basement. He wasn't too concerned about taking care of him, as he could always just use the angel's powers to heal him when he needed him back. Besides, he was a New York literary agent. He was fairly certain he'd seen worse.

He sighed, setting his scotch back on the table. One thing he hated about possessing different bodies was adjusting to the changes in perception. This body had slightly better vision, slightly worse hearing, slightly better coordination, and almost entirely different tastes. Craig didn't taste as good, and he kept craving cheeseburgers. But there were still certain advantages to possessing an angel, especially one so gorgeous.

Last night's adventure had left him a little tired, and though he didn't need to sleep, he enjoyed it. He also knew his angel would be ever more pissed off if the demon kept him tied down and then did nothing with him like that, so he spent a good fourteen hours in blissful unconsciousness. After that, he got up, poured himself a drink, and now here he was, waiting on his henchmen, as per usual.

Since there was still some time to kill, he decided to poke at his favorite pet. He walked over to a mirror again and let the angel out.

Castiel glared at him. "You monster," he said, tone dripping with loathing.

"Oh, come now, Cassie, that's not really how you feel, is it?" Crowley taunted. "I saw how you reacted to that poor girl last night. I felt what you felt, love." He leaned in closer to the mirror for effect. "I know you liked it," he hissed.

Castiel was visibly seething. "Mark my words, you abomination, when I get out of here–"

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Crowley interrupted. "As long as these marks stay intact," he said as he patted his right hip, "you're mine. And I will do whatever I please with you." He gave a nasty grin with that last sentence.

Castiel held the demon's gaze, but didn't say anything.

"Oh, come now," said Crowley with a sneer. "Aren't you the least bit curious about what I plan to do?"

"Are you really planning to tell me?"

"No, but that's not really the point, here, is it?"

"What is the point, then, Crowley?"

The demon looked pleasantly surprised. "Calling me by my name, now, are we love? Well, I suppose it's only fitting, seeing as how close we've gotten."

There was a knock at the door. Crowley stepped away from the mirror and reined the angel back in. _I think you know what the point is, angelcakes. The point is to see just how much you can take before you snap._

Crowley answered the door. The demon standing there looked slightly scared for a split second before composing himself a bit. "What is it?" Crowley asked.

"Sorry, sir," the demon replied. "I, um. I forgot you were wearing an angel for a moment."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh! Um. You meant, um, why am I here." The demon was fumbling through some papers in his hands. "I, um. We, that is. What I meant was, um..."

"Spit it out!" spat Crowley. Honestly, it was so hard to find good help these days.

"Right! Sorry. Um. We found them, sir. The family. Um. That family you were looking for."

"You found them?"

"Yes sir," he said, handing Crowley one of the papers. "The address is right there, see?" He pointed to the address printed on the page. "Amelia Novak and her daughter, Claire."

Crowley's eyes lit up as he slammed the door in the lesser demon's face.

* * *

This was too much. That poor random girl was bad enough, but now this? Jimmy's family? No. Not them. He'd promised they'd be safe. Jimmy had given his life for that promise. He'd given everything for it. Castiel couldn't let him down like this. But he couldn't see a way of stopping it.

They were out in front of the house now. Not the same one they had lived in with Jimmy, because they'd moved to escape the demons, but he could see them inside.

The house looked remarkably similar, with a walkway leading up the front yard to a covered porch, just like the old one. They stood in that walkway, wearing the same clothes Jimmy had worn when Castiel had first taken him. They walked up the path, they rang the doorbell, and they looked into Amelia's eyes as they widened in fear and shock.

"Jimmy?" she asked, wary. Castiel could feel his face turn into a relieved and apologetic smile. "I-is it really you?"

"It's really me, honey," he answered, his voice lighter and less gravelly than when Castiel spoke through it. With that, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed.

"Shh, it's OK, it's OK," he said. "Let's get inside, alright?" She nodded, and they went inside. Castiel was screaming again, but no one was listening.

They sat down on the couch. Amelia was still crying. "W-what happened, Jimmy?" she asked. "Where's Castiel? I thought..."

"It's OK, love. He's gone back to Heaven. He didn't need me anymore." He reached out and put his hand on her face, and Castiel raged and fought it but got nowhere.

"So, what, he was done with you, so he just dumped you here?" She was angry, and rightfully so. Her every word stung Castiel. He knew how much he had cost this innocent family.

"No, honey, don't you see?" His tone was soothing. "He put me back here so I could be with you again. He gave me the best gift he could. He gave me my life back." He pulled her into a tight hug.

He heard footsteps, too light to be adult, and a little girl came into the room. "Daddy?" she asked, not sure whether or not she believed what she was seeing. She was still young, but she'd been put through enough to know not to always take things at face value.

"Yes, honey," he answered, letting his voice crack slightly for good measure. "Daddy's home." She ran over to the couple on the couch and he pulled her into the embrace. Castiel felt the warmth of the two bodies pressed against him and instantly understood why humans took such comfort from embracing one another.

"We never thought we'd see you again, Jimmy," Amelia sobbed into his shoulder.

With that, Crowley smiled the most evil grin he could manage with a borrowed face. "Oh, sweetie, I'll be the last thing you'll ever see." She looked up at him just in time to see his eyes flash red before he touched his fingers to both her and her daughter's foreheads and putting them both to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Wings

Amelia's eyes fluttered open, and she looked into Crowley's. Castiel felt a sudden pang of sympathy on top of his rage and guilt, because just a few days ago, he'd been in the exact same position...physically, at least.

She tried to look around in panic but found her head was bound as securely as the rest of her body, so all she could do was dart her eyes around the room. "Jimmy?" she asked, her voice sounding strangled with fear. "Jimmy, what's going on? Where's Claire? What are you doing?"

Crowley just smirked at her. "Claire's right behind you. She's still asleep, but don't worry. When she comes to, you'll get to hear her scream."

"You monster," she spat.

"Y'know, you're the second person to call me that today." He paced around the room, twirling a knife between his fingers. "I think I'm starting to like it."

"Who are you? What have you done with Jimmy? You're not Castiel, I know that."

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "And just how much do you know about our little Castiel?"

"I know he wouldn't do this. Now, tell me where my husband is."

"Jimmy isn't here, Mrs. Novak," he said, using his finger as a puppet for his own amusement. At least she probably understood the reference, even if she didn't appreciate it.

"Who are you?" By this point, she had all but stopped trying to be brave, but she still had enough fight left in her to at least ask questions. Good. This would be more fun. Castiel agreed that it was good, but not for the same reason.

"Name's Crowley, love," he said as he turned on the spot and started walking over toward her again. "Not that I expect that name to mean anything to you. But if it makes you feel any better, I don't know where your husband is, either. You might say I picked up his body second-hand. From an old friend of his, actually. You say you know dear Castiel?" He chuckled. "Well, I know him better, and I got this body on the cheap from him."

"No," she said, the fear and doubt evident in her eyes. "Castiel wouldn't do that. He's an angel. He said he needed my husband. He said he'd need his body for a thousand years. He said he'd..."

Her words were cut short by the dagger at her throat. "Let me assure you, dear Amelia," Crowley breathed into her face, "not all angels are good. They don't always keep their promises, and when they're done with you, they just toss you on the trash heap like a broken toy."

Castiel realized those last words were meant for him, not for her. _Crowley, you abominable son of a bitch, this has nothing to do with her. Leave her alone and take your frustrations with me out on me._

_Oh, the angel's finally learned to curse, has he? Been taking lessons from your pet hunter, "ass butt"? _Crowley retorted silently.

"I'll tell you what, Amelia," he said, standing up straight.

_I'll tell you what, Castiel._

"I'm feeling generous."

_I'm feeling murderous._

"Now, I'm going to kill you either way."

_You heard me._

"But I'd rather make it fun. So. First, I'm going to wake your daughter up." He walked around behind her table and she heard her daughter's voice suddenly cry out. "Now. For every little thing you can tell me about Castiel or those Winchester boys, I'll tell you something you didn't know about our little fine-feathered mutual friend."

_For every time you try to stop me hurting her, I'll cut just a little bit deeper, and I'll let her daughter listen to her scream._

"Starting...now." He tapped an imaginary watch on his wrist. His angel was silent.

"Claire!" Amelia shouted.

"Mommy!" came the child's voice from behind her. "Mommy, where are we?"

"Claire, honey, it's OK. We're gonna be alright."

Crowley walked around behind the table, into Claire's line of sight.

"You're not Daddy," she said with terrified conviction.

"Oh, a smart one, have we? Aren't you just precious," he said as he leaned down and patted her cheek a few times before slapping her across the face.

"Claire!" Amelia was sobbing, now.

Crowley was in front of her again, without seeming to have walked there. He was tapping the imaginary watch on his wrist again. "Remember, Amelia, the game is afoot. We're playing here. Playing for time before I get bored and kill your daughter."

Amelia choked out another sob, completely at a loss for words. Claire, however, seemed to have something to say, so Crowley made his way back to her.

"You're Crowley," she said with certainty.

"Very good," he said, masking the annoyance in his voice. How had she known that? She was unconscious when he announced himself earlier.

_Once you've been a vessel, you retain a bit of vestigial knowledge, and in some cases, even power_, said the other prisoner. _Some also maintain an unintentional connection to their angel, though most don't know how to use it consciously._

_Huh. The nerd angels are good for something, after all. Thanks, Cassie._

She looked up and looked him in the eye. "If I tell you everything I know, will you let my mom go?"

Such boldness for someone so young. "Of course, honey," he said, putting on his best Jimmy impression.

"OK," she said, and then she started talking. Oh, what knowledge she still contained. Most of it Crowley already knew, being who he was. But some of it was the sort of thing you could only ever learn from the unique perspective of being chained to the comet he currently had chained up. Not quite the same.

* * *

By the end of this conversation, Castiel had simply retreated to the farthest corner of the demon's mind he could find, not trusting himself to listen to all of that without trying to retaliate. Now, though, he was being dragged back to the forefront. He started to hear what was going on as he resurfaced, feeling the words drip from his tongue like poisoned honey.

"Thank you, dear, you've been such a great help," Crowley was making him say. "Now, do you and your mommy want to see something special?"

Castiel had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it.

Crowley didn't wait for an answer. He just walked around to Amelia, dragging Claire's table around to face the same direction. "I'm going to show you the angel your family's bet its life on," he said with a sneer.

_Crowley, no!_ Castiel screamed, but it was too late. He could feel it. He could feel his wings being dragged into existence in this plane, being forced to fan out. He could feel the pain as he was forced to display his proud feathers, as they were pulled into a material plane they were never meant to exist in. Crowley was going all in on this one, too. He was actually manifesting all of Castiel's wings. He had only ever shown Dean the shadows of them, and even then, he only showed him two of them.

But now he stood there, in front of the two prisoners, surrounded by four glowing, radiant wings, that for the moment still only he could see, shining white-hot and brighter than the sun from the base until they faded out into the bright blue of electricity near the tips. He was screaming again, and there was nothing he could do about it. It hurt too much. The emotional trauma of knowing that what was happening to this family was his fault was nothing in comparison with the physical pain of having someone dragging his wings out like that.

The pain burned almost as bright as the wings themselves, and Castiel could neither see nor hear anything from the world around him. It was too much. Too bright, too hot, too sharp, too much. He was curled up in his own head, trying to block everything out, when he heard it. Amid the pain so intense he could actually hear it ringing in the ears of his vessel, nearly deafening him, there was a voice. Low, rough, and in comparison, actually soothing. He grabbed onto that voice without a thought before it even occurred him who it belonged to or what it was saying.

_The more you fight it, the more it will hurt, Cassie,_ the voice was saying.

Yes, that made sense. Don't fight it. Put your wings out yourself. Don't let them be pulled. Just let them be guided. Why was he fighting it? He couldn't even remember through the pain. Whatever it was, it couldn't be nearly as bad as this. He let go, and let his wings loose. He let them into reality and let them be guided.

He stood there, wings out and on display, the first time in centuries he had let them all out at once, and he was proud. He was proud of his beauty. He was proud of his power. He was proud of the bodies lying charred in front of him.

_There's a good angel,_ purred Crowley as Castiel's mind came back to the present and he realized what he had just done.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Home

Crowley was enjoying this. He hadn't enjoyed himself this much in centuries, actually. After he had let Castiel put his wings away, the quivering angel had all but fallen apart. Seems these emotions he had been experimenting with lately were getting the better of him. Angels weren't meant to have emotions, and this was exactly why: they didn't know how to control them, and it made them far too easy to manipulate.

"Oh, little Castiel," he said to the whimpering presence in his mind, speaking aloud just for the sheer pleasure of hearing his own voice. "You sound like you could use a bit of familiarity and comfort."

Castiel didn't even bother to form words to express his confusion and fear. He knew Crowley got the picture.

"What say we take you home?"

..._home?_ It seemed this conversation warranted actual vocabulary, after all. _You can't go to my home. It is impossible for a demon to pass through the gates of Heaven._

"No, pet," Crowley said with a smirk. "Heaven hasn't been your home for a long time, I don't think."

_Then where?_

"Well, you know what they say. 'Home is where the heart is.' And I think we both know where your heart truly lies."

* * *

Dean was sitting alone on the bed of the motel room, flipping idly through channels. Sam was out getting food or something. Whatever. He'd be back eventually.

Stupid TV. There was never anything interesting on. He'd even sunk so low once as to get hooked on a medical soap opera, just out of sheer, mindless boredom.

Never.

Again.

Anyway. He was just starting to think about looking for little Sammy's laptop to spend some quality time watching hentai, even though he would never in a million years admit to Sam that he knew it was called that, when there was a knock at the door.

Dean was immediately on his feet, TV off and gun in hand. Sam wouldn't bother knocking, and Cas would just show up next to him if he even knew where they were. Besides, they hadn't heard from Cas in weeks. He was probably neck-deep in angel business, trying to put Heaven back together or something. He didn't have time for humans, even ones who had stood by him through everything.

He walked, on tiptoe, over to the door, where he looked warily through the peephole. Standing outside his door, impossibly, was exactly that one person he had just convinced himself it couldn't be: his trench-coated angel.

He opened the door slowly. "Cas?" he asked, uncertain.

"Hello, Dean," he said in his low, gravelly voice, the one that would probably hurt his vessel's vocal chords if it weren't for his healing powers.

Dean opened the door wider. "What are you doing out there?"

"I thought it was customary to knock before entering a room with a closed door."

"Well, yeah, it is, but you usually..." Dean shook his head and stepped out of the way. "Come on in, Cas."

The trench-coated figure stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He approached the hunter, closing the gap between them until his face was mere inches from Dean's. The angel stared intently into his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel just a little bit violated.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're back and all, but...remember what we said about personal space?"

In place of an answer, the angel reached up and put an impossibly strong hand on the back of his head and pulled him down into a chaste kiss.

A lot of things flashed through Dean's mind in that moment. Surprise, for one. Little bit of fear. Uncertainty, definitely. And maybe...just little...excitement? Huh. That was unexpected.

As they broke apart, Dean met the angel's eyes again. Aw, damn, he looked so nervous. Hell, he was even biting his lip, and fuck if that wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

"Wh...what was that?" Dean asked, as soon as he could form words.

Cas looked immediately ashamed and apologetic. He looked down, refusing to meet the taller man's eyes. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to be so forward. I should have..."

Dean caught the angel's chin in his hand and forced his gaze back up. "Hey, hey, hey, calm down. It's OK. I just...wasn't expecting it." With that, Dean pulled his angel closer and kissed him again.

* * *

Castiel was more afraid than he'd been in his entire existence. He knew what Crowley was capable of, and he had an idea as to where he was taking this. He wanted so badly to protect Dean, but now he could barely even tell where he ended and where Crowley started. He saw the door in front of them. He heard his hunter's familiar heartbeat on the other side of it. How could humans not hear that? He saw the door open and saw his hunter standing there. He heard his voice, that sound from which he took so much comfort. He felt himself walk into the room. He saw into Dean's eyes. He felt his hand on the back of Dean's neck. He felt the hunter's lips against his. He smelled the breath on his face. It was too much. He couldn't take it, but there was nothing he could do. He had wanted to experience this for so long.

But not like this.

When Crowley let them break apart, Castiel was sure the hunter would be angry or afraid. He was sure that the whole relationship he had built up with the man would be as shattered as the angel's own mind was feeling at the moment.

He didn't expect the second kiss to come so willingly. It was a pleasant surprise, but not one he could take the time to revel in. He had to find a way to get out of this, a way to save his hunter.

* * *

This was going more easily than Crowley had expected. So, the hunter really DID have a thing for boys with wings. That meant this was going to hurt him so much more. And now little Cassie knew, too, so that was a new and unplanned torment with which to tear the angel's heart out. How perfect.

Oh, this night was going to be so much more fun than he had let himself hope.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Trust

So Cas had kissed him. Huh. That was unexpected.

To be honest, though, what was more unexpected was the fact that he had kissed back. Or maybe that he was _still_ kissing back. Or maybe the part where they'd lain down on the bed. Or the part where he'd let Cas be on top.

Maybe the most unexpected part was how OK with it he was. He'd always thought the idea of kissing a guy was...weird. He wasn't homophobic or anything, but he never really thought he'd be into this. Somehow, though, it felt OK. Hell, it felt _good_.

Weird.

He pulled Cas closer in to himself, reveling in this new territory. He was still sort of nervous and unsure of himself, but he trusted his angel. His hands went up to the other man's shoulders, and he gently slid the trench coat off of him. It landed on the floor, and he started on the suit coat when Cas pulled away.

"Dean," said the angel, looking him in the eye. Dean met his gaze. "Are you certain about this?"

"Certain about what, Cas?" Dean thought it was pretty obvious he was sure about being OK with this.

"Are you certain that you want this? That you want me?"

Dean reached up and put his hand on the back of his angel's head and pulled him down so he could kiss his forehead before looking him straight in the eye again. "Cas, I don't really know what I want anymore, but I know I'm liking this...whatever it is, and I know I trust you, OK?" With that, he grabbed Cas's tie and pulled him in for another kiss on the lips.

* * *

_Dean._

That was the only coherent thought Castiel could get out. He was so lost in sensation right now. He was fairly certain even if Crowley weren't there, he wouldn't have any control over his body anyway. This feeling, being so close to someone he cared so much about, someone he wanted so badly, was so irresistibly wonderful. He actually found himself being thankful for the demon's presence, because he didn't think he'd really know what to do on his own.

_That's right, Cassie_, came Crowley's voice. _I'm just helping you along._

Castiel would have been struggling to figure out why Crowley would do something so seemingly benevolent, or to find a way to regain control of his body, or even to disentangle his own thoughts and feelings from the demon's, but Dean was now lying shirtless and breathless beneath him, and his own shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loosely about him, and there was just no room in his mind for such complex thoughts. All he could do was watch and resign himself to enjoying the show.

And what a show it was. Dean had his hands inside Castiel's shirt and was running them down his back, tracing his shoulder blades before pulling him in closer. Castiel was straddling Dean, and his pants were straining to contain him. He felt his hand go up to Dean's shoulder and push him down on the bed. He felt his lips leave Dean's and travel down his neck to his chest. He felt his fingers working at Dean's belt, working to undo the button and then the zip of his jeans. He felt Dean hard and hot in his hand as he teased him. He felt the hunter grab him by the shoulders and flip him over so Castiel was on the bottom and Dean was on top. He felt Dean undo the dress pants and rip them off of him entirely, to join the rest of the suit on the floor. He felt Dean's lips at his neck and Dean's fingers at his hips and _oh fuck_ now Dean was stroking him and he had never felt anything so good. If he had any control over his own body, he would have moaned Dean's name, but as it was, all he could do was think it.

_Dean..._

* * *

Crowley wasn't sure what he was enjoying more: manipulating the hunter that had made his life so much more difficult for so long, or dangling the very same hunter like a worm on a hook in front of the angel who'd stabbed him in the back. He just had to let that angel get himself good and latched onto the hook before tugging on the line, pulling him gasping and thrashing out of the water. If he was going to make this hurt as much as he needed it to, if he was going to really destroy this angel, he was going to have to make him do this next part himself.

_You see, Cassie?_ he whispered. _I'm just here to give you what you want. After all, it's not like Dean was ever going to give it to you on his own_.

The hunter was on top now, which made this easier. Now he didn't have to trust the angel to know what he was doing. All he had to do was keep feeding him ideas like that and then give him a little bit of control back.

_I'm just giving you the courage to take it for yourself. To take what you deserve. You know he wouldn't have given it to you otherwise. So wrapped up in himself and his moose of a brother._

It was a good thing he'd come prepared, because he was relatively certain the hunter didn't generally keep lube around. He snapped his fingers and the bottle that was in the pocket of the trench coat appeared in his hand. He held it up to the hunter, who took it from him and put rather a lot on his fingers.

_You see what you get when you learn to take what you want? You see how he's not trying to kill you or trap you, how he's actually paying attention to you for something other than your ability to save his arse? You see how he's at YOUR beck and call now, instead of the other way around?_

He felt one finger push into him slowly, and _fuck_ that felt good. He had to admit, having this angel in his head had actually helped him see the more attractive side of the hunter, and with how turned on Castiel was, he couldn't help but enjoy this quite a lot, himself. He even allowed himself a moan, partially self-indulgence, partially selling the part.

"Dean." It elicited such a tantalizing response from the hunter, who gave a little half-smirk before thrusting a second finger in, decidedly less gently.

_See how he smirks at you? He's just glad he finally gets to use you the way he's always wanted. He doesn't even notice it's not you. He just wants your body. It's not even _your_ body._

As Dean scissored him open, preparing for something bigger than two fingers, he could feel the angel writhing, so full of sensation, and now so unsure of what to think about his beloved hunter.

* * *

"Cas!"

Castiel was already on fire inside, but that groan as Dean entered him was like lightning coursing through his veins. He wanted so badly to reach up and put his hands on Dean's shoulders, to touch the place where he had first grabbed the hunter when he pulled him out of Hell. He could feel his arms, and they were moving, and somehow, miraculously, they were there, exactly where he wanted them to be, on his hunter's shoulders, as if he'd put them there himself. He felt his body adjust to Dean inside of him, and he felt Dean start to move. It felt so good, and for a moment he didn't even care that Dean had hurt him in the past. He just wanted this to go on, wanted to always feel his hunter so close, wanted to feel like Dean would never hurt him again. He just wanted to feel like Dean wanted him as much as he wanted Dean.

_But that's the problem, isn't it, Cassie?_ Crowley thought to him. _He doesn't want you. Not really. Otherwise he would have taken you before now._

_But... _Castiel thought back, _if he doesn't want me, then why is he doing this?_

_Because he thinks you want it_, the demon answered. _He's afraid of you, Cassie. He's just giving you what he thinks you want so he doesn't make you angry._

No. It couldn't be true. No, Dean was always there for him...wasn't he? He couldn't just be using him. Dean was a good person, wasn't he? Good people didn't do that. But good people also didn't lie to their friends and plot against them. Good people trusted their friends; even bad people trusted people they really cared about. No, if Dean really cared about him, would he really have lied to him about trying to stop him working with Crowley in the first place? Would he really have tried to kill him afterward? Would he really have reminded him so brutally afterward of all the things he'd done?

No, it seemed Dean really didn't care so much for him after all. Suddenly, Castiel's fingers were itching to leave the man's shoulders and wrap around his neck.

* * *

_Fuck_ was Cas tight.

Dean felt sort of guilty for having that be his first thought as he thrust into the man he cared so much about and who he'd trusted so much to, but it was true, and it was kind of an unavoidable thought.

God, his angel was gorgeous, though. If he'd ever imagined he'd be here, standing at the edge of the bed, fucking into Cas as the angel stared back at him and gripped his shoulders tighter with every thrust, he would've thought he'd gone crazy. But now...now that he was actually experiencing it, now that he was seeing Cas spread out on the bed, staring back into his soul with those electric blue eyes...now that thought wasn't so bad.

And fuck, was Cas tight.

His grip was pretty tight, too, and he was pretty sure he was gonna have bruises on his shoulders tomorrow. He didn't really mind. His thoughts were more focused on the present, anyway. Kinda hard not to be, with how fucking hot Cas was to him all of a sudden. One thing was for sure, though: he really hoped Sammy didn't come back any time soon.

He was so wrapped up in the experience of fucking his perfect angel that he didn't really notice Cas change his grip. He didn't really notice his hands releasing Dean's shoulders, or moving in towards his neck. He _did_, however, notice them suddenly closing around his throat, far too tightly, and cutting off his air supply.

So maybe this was the most unexpected event of the night. His hands went to Cas's, grabbing at them, trying to pry them off, as his mouth formed words he didn't have the breath to pronounce. His eyes begged as the angel stared him down, those electric blue eyes somehow turned from lust to betrayal and hatred. He kept trying to gasp for breath, but it was no use. He didn't know what had gone wrong, but his last thought before he blacked out was that if he was gonna go, he just wished he'd gotten to tell Cas he l...


End file.
